Page 19 of Match Point

“It’s a good thing I’ve arranged for a nutritionist to meet with you.” Her nonsensical demands brought a smile to his own lips. A very reluctant one. He accelerated onto the freeway towards I-90. Weekend traffic was light, and he navigated to the HOV lane.

She slapped her hand on her thigh and spoke out of clenched teeth, all traces of amusement gone. “I don’t have a weight problem.”

He chanced a glance at her from the corner of his eye, careful to keep his attention on the road. “I never said you did. From your physical, your height-weight ratio looks to be on track, although scientifically speaking, body mass is in direct correlation to muscle mass. Although you have no visible signs of being obese, there are obese-thin people.”

“How’s that even possible?”

He went around a slower vehicle and checked his rearview mirror, anything to distract from the woman beside him. In the space of a half an hour, she’d gone from grumpy, to teasing, and now annoyed. During the entire time there was one constant, her appeal. The many moods of Sorcha had kept him on his toes. Part of him wished he could cut off their association, but the other part—the bored part—was challenged by her unpredictability. “Body fat. Thin people can hide body fat internally as opposed to externally. If you eat the wrong foods, your body stores food for later consumption.”

“I simply made a comment about eating my favorite breakfast. It’s not like I eat them every day.”

Leo didn’t bother to hold back his chuckle. “You demanded a blueberry muffin every morning, now you’re telling me you don’t eat them much. Either you eat one every morning, or you don’t.”

“Have I told you how much I loathe you?” she asked, her head resting back against the seat.

At this point, he’d take her shit, as long as he achieved his goal. “I kind of got the hint from your I fucking hate you comment.”

“Okay, I don’t fucking hate you. That was rude and I apologize.”

“Why do I sense a but there?” They had an hour drive, might as well fill it with conversation. They hadn’t talked strategy much and he hoped the time at Grams’ ranch would allow them to get down to some serious business.

“But my head hurts, I feel like I’m about to puke, and I have no idea where you’re taking me. Nor why I agreed to go. It’s all suspect.”

“Because you’re still convinced I’m a pervert?”

She put on a pair of sunglasses and opened her water bottle, sipping at the liquid. “Exactly.”

“I brought you home last night and you woke up with your clothes on, didn’t you? If I was a pervert, you’d have been stripped naked.” God, why had he said that? Now he couldn’t get the visual out of his head.

“Hypothetically speaking, you could have dressed me after the fact,” she countered.

“If we’d hooked up, you’d know, and it wouldn’t be while you were drunk. I might be a pervert, but I do have some common decency.” Again, shut up.

“That’s what all the perverts say. But to your earlier comment, no, I don’t eat muffins every morning because I rarely, if ever, eat breakfast.”

“One of the purposes of this retreat is to remedy your bad habits. The first being your propensity to lie to me, the second skipping breakfast. Both are big mistakes. The old adage that it’s the most important meal of the day has merit. It kick-starts your metabolism. Those muffins are pure sugar and will make your body peak early. To get the most out of your workout, we’ll start you out with lean proteins, avocado and nuts.”

“I wasn’t lying, I was proving a point with the muffin. I’m not called the Tennis Court Princess for nothing.” A smile curved her lips at her tongue-in-cheek comment. “So, no bacon, eggs, and toast?”

“Yes to the eggs, one piece of bacon a week is acceptable, and yes to the toast, depending on what kind of bread, but don’t expect real butter. I’d recommend non-salted peanut butter as the better option. Lying to get your point across is still lying, and no, I’m not calling you princess.” He switched lanes.

“Glad to know you’re keeping count. As for breakfast, if you can’t have butter on your bread, or salt in your peanut butter, why bother?”

The playful side of Sorcha was entertaining, her wry sense of humor a surprise. They’d been at odds since they met. He hoped to move past that. “I didn’t make the rules, nature did.”

“Are you also a health nut?” she asked, twisting in her seat.

He looked over at her. Big mistake. Her head was back, and she licked her lips, mouth wet from the action.

“I guess. I was an active duty Army for four years before I enlisted in the reserves, which is a six-year contract.” Why was he talking about his personal life with her? He’d wanted to keep them on a professional level, and he kept breaking his own rules.

“Ah, that explains it. Let me guess, you were a drill sergeant. Lucky me.”

“No, I wasn’t a drill sergeant.” Damn, he shouldn’t have admitted that. Now she’d ask even more questions. “I’m not a true health nut. I like the occasional hamburger and fries. Everything in moderation.”

“Then you won’t mind pulling over to the nearest Starbucks so I can get a muffin and some coffee. I need coffee.”

“The infamous blueberry muffin?”

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